A quaint little joint in Augusta, Michigan (seriously the quietest town on the planet). We’re not really sure what the focal point is here (the agriculture, one of the best theaters on the west side of the state or just really nice people)…but that’s not what we came here for. Indeed, we’re here for the food! We were drawn to little Augusta to have an intimate affair with some food. Well, not really…work with us here.
A Food Affair, located in the heart of the city, promises all sorts of yummies made with as many local ingredients as they can fetch. Not a difficult feat in Michigan, but definitely an admirable one. While their dinner menu is full of variety and includes dishes from home-style comfort foods to elegant vegetarian options, the breakfast menu is a bit scarce (as if we were the vultures that flew in a too late for the real feast). While we’re not the type to jump in the gas wagon and drive twenty minutes for breakfast, we respected the mission of this adorable-sounding café and thought that the local goodness made the trek worthwhile.
There were several vegetarian options, none vegan (mind the English muffin), but besides that, the selections were few. Still, we held the little shop in high regard because of the owner’s respect for local goods. Admittedly, we were quite hung over after a night of celebrating life, so a happy breakie was much needed and our bellies bounced around inside us as if we had taken them to the carnival. But after thirty minutes of waiting for the bountiful plates to arrive, our organs sent out the hunger pangs in the hopes of retrieving something edible from us…the coffee mugs…maybe the napkins…who knows. We still sat there with a minor amount of hope on our faces and chuckled at the clever artwork on the walls – a pot of boiling water with veggies sitting in it as if they were in Jacuzzi, jalapeños dancing with tortillas around their waists and bananas playing in a paper bag.
Still…our tummies were starting to get grumpy about the now empty promise of abundant goodies. The coffee had run dry and lone waitress was pounding away at an ice block that had formed in the soda machine. Thud thud thud! “Where the hell are we?” I moaned, with my belly cheering on. “What could possibly be taking so long?” After all, being a vegan, I opted for the cup of fruit and an English muffin. Although when ordering my meal, the waitress did look at me as if she thought I couldn’t possibly survive on such morsels. Apparently in Augusta, mass amounts of food are required to sustain the human body.
Steve was beginning to look weak (i.e. the hangover had really started to punch around in his brain). Forty-five agonizing minutes later (even the dancing jalapeños had become weary) we finally received our food. While Steve’s omelet looked fresh and pretty, the accompanying corn muffins were 
a sad bunch. Each time he bit into them, I was showered with crusty crumbs, as if he had become a wood-chipper and I was being battered by the debris. We moved passed the awkwardness and I proceeded to prod at my cup of rotten fruit. Hmmm…possibly the Michigan farmers neglected to pick their fruit when it was ripe? This was seriously not what I expected and sort of ruined the whole “local” theme for me. We’re all smart enough to know that fruit doesn’t need to travel 1500 miles to be fresh, right? Ummm…yes.
So, I moved onto the under-toasted English muffin (again..this is a piece of bread that took 45 minutes to arrive). I asked for jam to juice up the toast a bit, and mind you, jam is one of my favorite delights for breakfast. The waitress tossed two small packets of Smuckers grape jelly on the table. “Yucko” I belted out. I can’t stand grape jelly and why isn’t this place making homemade jam with the rotten fruit they have? Sort of a big disappointment considering this place touts local, homemade treats.
While I continued to chew on the doughy madness, my own hangover started to bark inside….”Unhappy!” it screamed. I didn’t care anymore…all of the customers seemed a bit perturbed. The lone waitress ran back and forth from serving one customer to loudly chopping away at the ice block, to microwaving something that none of us could see…all while our coffee cups screamed for liquid like fish out of water. After Steve had successfully managed to consume what he called “an okay omelet” we scrambled to remove ourselves from poor little Augusta. The server apologized to us for the long delay, but we surely couldn’t understand it. There were only a handful of customers….possibly A Food Affair can only handle one mistress at a time.
